


my own dose of normal

by carefulren



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fever Dreams, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Prompt Fill, Sickfic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 13:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12321660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren
Summary: Nightmares reveal a lot, a lot that Eddie hates to see.





	my own dose of normal

As years passed, the remaining fear of the menacing clown dwindled down to a distant, fuzzy memory that almost doesn’t feel real. At least, that’s how Eddie sees it, and based on the others fully shifting into varying senses of normalcy, he feels he can confidently say the same for his friends as well. 

But, as it would turn out, fear doesn’t leave; it just hides and manifests when one is at their most vulnerable, as Eddie will quickly come to learn. 

It starts with Richie getting sick the day before their high school graduation; it’s not bad by any means, a nasty summer cold at the most, but it’s enough to have Richie down for the count, leaving Eddie a worried mess. 

The two have grown close during the following years, each finding their own sense of normalcy within the other. So, it’s become typical for one to spend the night at the other’s, and Eddie is very insistent on staying at Richie’s right now. 

“I’m not dying,” Richie groans as Eddie smooths a damp cloth across his feverish forehead. 

“No, but someone needs to take care of you. How are you supposed to walk across the stage to get your diploma if you’re sick?” 

“By just fucking walking,” Richie grumbles, cracking one tired eye open. “Maybe I’ll cough on the principal. Serves that bastard right for embarrassing you in front of our entire science class.” 

“You’re still on about that?” Eddie mutters with a roll of the eyes. “I don’t care if he has a bad opinion of my being a hypochondriac.” 

“I do,” Richie fires back, only to quickly push up onto his elbows and turn his head away to cough harshly over and over. It’s a sore topic for him; he doesn’t like when people pick on Eddie for his worrying over health, even if Eddie has grown to accept it. 

“Jesus, calm the fuck down,” Eddie says, voice laced with worry as he smooths a hand up and down Richie’s trembling back. 

When Richie snags a second to catch his breath, he falls back against his pillows with a huff. “I’m gonna do it,” he tells Eddie as he slips his glasses from his eyes. “I’m gonna cough right in his face.” 

Eddie takes the glasses and sets them on the night stand before shaking his head and getting to his feet. He smooths Richie’s blanket down, taking the time to tuck the fabric tightly around Richie before taking a step back. “Well, I plan on having you well by tomorrow, so that won’t happen.” 

Richie doesn’t press further as Eddie gets settled within his sleeping bag on the floor; he only opts to speak after cutting the bedside lamp out. 

“Do you need any more blankets? Are you comfortable?” 

“I’m fine, Richie,” Eddie says along a yawn, with Richie muttering out a quiet “good” as the two fall silent. 

The silence remains for a good four hours, but all too soon, Eddie’s being pulled awake by a sound that his tired mind cannot decipher. He rolls over, fully intent on ignoring it, but it grows louder, forming into a clear whimper that has him shooting up with wide eyes. 

“Richie?” He calls out, gaze snapping toward the bed. The whimpering is louder now, more prominent and bouncing against the small bedroom walls uncomfortably. 

Eddie struggles out of his sleeping bag and stumbles to his feet, eyes slow to adjust to the dark surroundings. He carefully feels for the bedside lamp, cutting it on the second his fingers brush against the small switch. 

“Rich-” He starts, words dropping off as his eyes find Richie’s flushed, thrashing form. The latter is physically jerking about in bed. His eyes are still closed, yet they appear awake and wild, pressing and rolling against closed lids. 

“Fuck,” Eddie hisses out as he reaches a quick hand to Richie’s cheek, only to jerk it back with a deep frown at the apparent heat. “Fuck,” he repeats, louder, afraid. 

He moves his hand to Richie’s shoulder, fingers digging into Richie’s skin as he starts to shake the other boy. “Richie, wake up!” 

When he gets no response, he grows desperate. He claws at Richie’s shoulder and leans close to the boy. “Richie, please wake the fuck up!” 

Richie shoots forward with a loud gasp, with Eddie just barely moving out of the way from getting hit. Richie’s chest heaves as he sucks in deep, shaking breaths that match the tremors wracking his slender frame, and Eddie scrambles to drop onto the edge of the bed beside Richie. He snakes one arm around Richie’s shoulders.

“You were having a fever-induced nightmare,” Eddie says quietly. “You’re burning up.” 

“I saw it,” Richie replies, voice weak, shaky, and Eddie frowns. 

“You saw what?” 

_“It.”_

Eddie’s entire body goes rigid under the weight of that single word. Memories flood his mind, taking him back to a time that feels like a distant nightmare, but a gasping sob pulls him back into reality. He blinks against the memories, arm tightening around Richie’s trembling frame. 

“Richie-”

“It was there, Eddie. At graduation. I went to walk, to get my diploma, and the principal turned into It. I tried to run, but It grabbed my throat. I-” Richie’s voice cracks against a second, wavering cry that has Eddie moving around the small bed until he’s perched on his knees facing Richie. 

“It was just a fever-induced dream,” he repeats, bringing both hands to cup Richie’s too-warm cheeks. 

“It felt real,” Richie whispers. “It always feels real.” His voice catches against a breathy cry that has Eddie leaning forward and pulling Richie into his arms, allowing Richie to cry into his shoulder, not caring that he’s risking catching whatever’s currently plaguing Richie. 

“Everything’s okay,” Eddie mutters, smoothing one hand along Richie’s unruly hair. “I’m not going to let It get you.” 

“How would you stop It?” 

Eddie considers this for a moment before a flicker of a smile tugs at his lips. 

“Easy. I’ll just fucking kill It as many times as I have to.” 

**Author's Note:**

> and here's another because why not??


End file.
